I’m a bit behind on my bits of poetry, I’ve been taking this Creative Nonfiction class at Grubstreet in Boston and have been caught up in getting out a couple of pieces for that. It does take me awhile to get out any writing, my mind seems to be all over the place and I’ve got one of those pesky little inner editors that likes to be heard as I write. They are not blog worthy, yet but if I do post any of these writings they will have to be serialized in some form, they are a tad too long for a blog. In the meantime, I plug away with poetry trying my best to figure that genre out while producing some passable stuff and some not so passable. It’s all part of the process of writing. I also keep reading what other bloggers have been posting and liking much of what I’ve read, there’s some really decent poetry out there and well worth the read. So, hopefully I will have something new to post, in fact there are two or three little pieces that I’ve been working on that may one day see the light of day. In the meantime, keep on writing my friends, the world today needs the poets words, dreams and voices to help us see the beauty as well as cut through the anger and darkness that infects our world. 

Over 100 Followers

 Much to my surprise I now have amassed over 100 followers on my blog. Now, I realize that there are other bloggers who have well over 1000 if not more, bloggers who have found that special niche producing prodigious works. I, on the other hand, have no special niche. I just write what’s been bubbling up in my head, it’s not rocket science. I started this blog a few years ago, first it was my poor attempt at some creative writing, then it became a place where I recorded my recovery from being hit by a car door, while out cycling. It was that accident and the months of being laid up that began this journey. Having time to think, I mean really think, about what is important I began to focus more and more on my writing. Now, I’m no Hemingway, I really struggle when I write trying to find the words that express my feelings and surroundings. At times I’m a bit successful at other times, not so much but I continue to write. One of the results of all this attempted writing is that I’ve been taking classes at Grub Street in Boston, a place where one can go and learn more about the craft of writing. Yes, writing is a craft, it takes time and effort just to get something written then expose it to the world and let them see what you have composed. At Grub Street, I have been given the opportunity to experiment, to explore the various genres and take risks in my writing. Right now I’m in the midst of a 10 week Creative Nonfiction class and so far I have produced one piece and am working on a second, that I hope to have finished soon. Well, finished is not the correct term, as anyone who has been writing, finishing is a movable line that sits out there on the horizon, tantalizing one into thinking they are finished. I’ve got several pieces that are in various stages of being finished with none of them even close. 

 That brings me back to my blog, my little musings that I throw out there. Lately, I’ve been intrigued by poetry, something that I still don’t fully understand but still try writing about. I read poetry, I love the way in which poets use words to paint pictures on the mind, taking the reader on a journey through time and space. Some are able to do so using their words economically, sparing us the effort to slog through long, rambling paragraphs. So, I try. I try to write poetry, I try to use my words to paint that picture, to convey what I see in my minds eye and write. Am I successful? That’s for the reader to decide, all I can do is write, post and let the chips fall where they may. 

 So, thank you to all of you who are taking a chance to follow my blog and are reading my small offerings. I appreciate the fact that you are taking time from out of your busy day to read what I have written and also to like what has been put out there. Now, I must move on, put my Creative Nonfiction hat on and continue to write for my class. What’s in my future? Who, knows. Grub Street has many other classes that I find intriguing, from doing more nonfiction, to writing fiction, essay’s, and of course, poetry. In fact, as I write this I’m thinking that this might be a good start for a Creative Nonfiction piece, about a novice out there in the blogosphere looking for his place among the giants of that world in the words he writes.


I sit here with eyes closed

remembering a dream

of a full, bright moon

shining on the darkened sea

as I sit, high on a hill

looking over a village below

where small yellow lights glow

from a million different windows

while above the stars twinkle

creating constellations that dance

along the blackened sky.

In this place, I stand alone

solitude and silence within

the deepest depths of my dream

as the scene drifts along lazily

in a fantasy of fairy tale castles

and small boats along the shore

seeking safe harbor for the night.

Why this dream on this night?

I open my eyes, taking it all in

the bright sun shining

the sounds of the world outside

the deep desire for peace

in the restlessness of my heart.

Why write this? I wonder,

what part of me is speaking

what words are seeking release?

I do only what I can

writing what I see and feel

hoping for revelation

in the twilight of life.

Just Thinking

Sitting here just thinking

nothing overly productive

but just thinking

about our times

about how we have forgotten

how to have real dialogue

how to speak to one another

without all of the finger pointing

and the angry rhetoric.

I wonder what happened 

to civil discourse

have we become so immune

to one another

only able to blame

rather than reach out?

So, I write a poem

trying to understand

what is going on

not in the world but in my heart

so I sit here thinking

about nothing overly productive

hoping to make sense

of a senseless world.

Faith’s Journey

Early morning as I sit here

I look at the Scripture

Paul writing to Timothy

contemplating his last days

“I have fought the good fight,

I have finished the race,

I have kept the faith”

My own heart is tired

as I read these words

I see that the journey 

is far from the finish

the race continues

and I hold on to faith.

Even as I walked today

as the wind raged 

blowing brown leaves

down empty streets

even in the maelstrom

of the season we live today

I continue to hold on to faith

knowing that grace abides

that when this race is done

and I am once again dust

my poor words will live on

in the hearts of those I love.

Listening to Pandora

Sweet harmonies flow

the voices of angels

on the air sing of love

amidst the loud noise

of the darkened minds,

singing songs of peace

their voices melded as one

quieting the troubled soul

giving voice to the grace

of creation in the gift of music

I listen to them and sense

a great calm over the waters

that turn and toss the wayward

who have no anchor.

I dream of harmonic chords

that call us into one Body

all singing the songs 

that call us into being

whispering life into dust.

The Preacher

I look out at the faces

filled with expectation

waiting to be fed

with the pitiful morsels

of what I say

not enough to fill

their empty hearts

as the world turns


of darkening forces

gathering on the horizon.

The nave feels empty

this cold, gray morning

few come to pray

fewer still just come.

What words do I say

to quell growing fear?

Quieting the angry voices

they hear each day.

My words feel leaden

filled with cliches

yet, I stand before them

a lone figure

a final sentinel

standing on the brink 

guarding the path

pointing to the light.